How to Save a (Love) Life
by LifeIndeed
Summary: Morgana is a lifeguard, Merlin is the unattainable for reasons that are entirely her own fault, and everyone else ships it. Basically a three part Lifeguard!AU featuring unhealthy amounts of Mergana and sarcasm.
1. PART 1

**A/N: Sometimes, when amidst a huge writing project, you need a way to trim off the excess. This is my excess:**

* * *

><p>PART ONE: In which Morgana's super power of avoidance lets her down, there's some cute Gwen and annoying-as-all-hell Gwaine, and the black knight of Misunderstanding finally rears his awful, giant ugly head.<p>

* * *

><p>Morgana happens to be glancing below, looking for the familiar brown curls of lovely Gwen, and - and does <em>not<em> see what she just saw.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no no no. This is a dream. A nightmare. A really really horrible, wonderfully terrible nightmare.

And its impossible because she would know. Well, _Arthur_ would know, and then he would tell her and she'd request the day off and successfully avoid her problems for the umpteenth time this summer. And then this wouldn't be happening.

Its been their agreement since that fateful night, almost three months ago now, and though Arthur is a complete imbecile when it comes to practically _anything_, on this one thing she's always been able to count on him -

Until now, it seems.

"Morgana, are you . . . sweating?"

Gwaine is squinting at her, and she really does not need this in her life right now.

"_Yes_, Gwaine, I'm sweating. It's _hot._"

"Well, yeah, but you never sweat. Ever."

She gathers every shard of negative energy littering inside her right now, and throws it directly at him. With her eyes.

It doesn't really work properly on Gwaine, of course. Morgana will begrudgingly admit - though never out loud - that it never really has.

"Obviously, I do," she retorts, before telling the next bikini-clad teenager, "You can go now." And she can feel the evidence: creeping down her neck, sticking at her hairline, moistening her upper lip.

She watches the girl shoot down the tube, then looks up to find Gwaine's eyes still on her. "_What_?"

"You're also shaking a little," he explains, and when she shoots him a disbelieving look he steps into the water to grab one of her hands and pull it up. And upon inspection, yes, perhaps her fingers might be a _little_ unsteady -

"Dude, can I go or what?"

The kid is glaring at Gwaine over his bleached fringe, sitting so far from the edge of the slide its a wonder the current hasn't flushed him down. Gwaine turns to him, unleashes his most dashing smile, releases Morgana's hand and gives the kid two thumbs up - and the second _after_ the kid goes, flashes two other fingers after him.

They don't talk for some blissful seconds, and Morgana successfully stops her stomach from turning or her eyes from wandering to the line of people visible below them, waiting for a turn. All in all, an encouraging change of fortune. Now if only Gwen would _show up already_ for the new shift, then perhaps this day won't turn out so horrific.

"_Mer_lin, could you _be_ more pathetic-"

The familiar voice travels up from the line below, followed by a very distinct laugh that _does not_ make Morgana's knees go wobbly. Gwaine's eyebrows shoot up beneath his sun visor.

And this has just about signed her brother's death warrant.

"Arthur and _Merlin_ are here?" Gwaine says, leaning over the wooden railing to look down, where the aforementioned are standing. Actually, Merlin is leaning over, clutching a foot, which could presumably have something to do with Arthur's "pathetic" jibe, but both are getting dangerously and dangerously closer. Soon there won't be any possible way to slip past for her next shift unnoticed, since the line narrows on the stairs they're moving towards. Perhaps - the _slide_. Break the rules and make her escape the fun way!

. . . Except no. Gwen's disapproving face really is quite scary. "It appears so," Morgana says through gritted teeth, envisioning how exactly she will inflict Arthur's end.

Stick his head on a spike. Oh yes. Not the most aesthetically pleasing way to go about things, but definitely the most satisfactory.

"_Ohhhh!_ Okay. This makes a lot more sense now," Gwaine says like he's reached enlightenment, gesturing at Morgana ambiguously.

"What does?"

"_Everything_. You sweating for one, which I am positive has never happened before and I would know, and for two - "

"Gwaine, would you kindly muzzle that incessant mouth of yours? Just for another two minutes, tops?" Gwen has got to be here, any second now. Morgana would watch for her, if that didn't mean looking down where Mer - Arthur and his friend are waiting still.

"How would you even manage it this whole summer? Its not like he hasn't come here before." Gwaine waves on the next person, but his eyes are curious on her.

Morgana would really love to face palm. Because really this whole situation.

"You don't say - I honestly hadn't noticed."

"Seriously? Not even that one time - wait, you weren't there. What about . . . _oh no. Morgana_." A smile splits Gwaine's face so wide his name might as well be Cheshire. Not that she's paying him any attention - she quite pointedly has her eyes trained where they're _supposed_ to be, on the next person waiting. "I can't believe this. All those random days you requested off! Like you - you _knew_ he would be here!"

Jogging up the stairs into the scene like a intervening guardian angel, enters Gwen. "Hey! Sorry I'm a bit late!"

"Its fine bye!" Morgana manages, booking it past Gwen with her brightest smile and trying not to inwardly die from relief. One battle altogether avoided, no thanks to life and luck. Except the _big boy_ is still up ahead - or rather down ahead.

"Say hi to Merlin for me!" Gwaine calls after her. He'll regret it during their break - no spinach rolls to be shared today. _That'll_ teach him.

She's running off "Excuse me" the whole way down the stairs, head down, silently imploring her sun visor to please save her from potentially the most humiliating, embarrassing, _awkward_ situation possibly since Uther took her shopping for her first bra. Which has never yet been topped.

"Morgana!"

Oh please no.

She keeps going, keeps her head down - its loud, the water rides aren't silent, nor are the people waiting for them, so its quite conceivable that she simply didn't hear - and then a hand _grabs her elbow_, spins her to a stop in front of . . . that face. Oh please no. What has she done to deserve this?

Silly question.

"Oh! Merlin, hey. I'm just changing shifts," Morgana says directly to those really blue eyes that she never thinks about, because the beauty of them admittedly does strange things to her psyche.

Arthur is watching them with a grin on the first step of the stairs, all smug and arms crossed. And that spiked head plan is looking pretty viable. "Oh, okay. Good to see you," Merlin smiles, _smiles_, all flushed from the sun and shirtless - and she hopes belatedly she smiled back when he releases her arm and she's turning to go. Because her tongue doesn't really feel capable of speech, presently.

Then he calls, "Wait! When's your next break?"

"2:00!" Morgana manages over her shoulder. And hightails it out of there.

Cursing silently - maybe just because of her foolishness, believing she could avoid him the entire summer. Maybe because it wasn't awkward like she'd thought, and that somehow makes it worse.

_Maybe_ because her break is at 1:30, not 2:00.

* * *

><p>"Awww come on, Morgana, I'm <em>sorry<em>. And I won't tell anyone, I swear on my life."

"Hmmm, when have I heard that before?"

Gwaine opens his mouth; wisely shuts it. For _once_.

Her break has begun and his has ended, and he really shouldn't be standing here still. "Move it, Poncho. Its fine, just get out of here." She rolls her eyes at his pleading eyes, all big and puppyish. He still isn't getting her extra spinach wrap.

Gwaine sighs, grins and heads dejectedly away toward the lazy river, high-fiving Patty the Penguin as he passes.

Morgana can't help but snort at that.

This break isn't technically a real one. She's still sitting here, not on alert for the people swimming in the wave pool, just on alert _to be_ alert the second her walkie talkie beeps at her. But she's off her feet and off duty for the moment, and that's something at least. The smell of sunscreen and chlorine wafts through the park more than usual, like waves of heat - or perhaps _in_ the waves of heat. Today is probably their most busy day so far, and there's only three weeks left of the season.

Which means if Morgana can stick it out here until then, then hide in her room at home and blast her indie rock _just_ loud enough, she might survive till her first day of college this fall. Merlin, more than God, willing.

But the problem being he is _everywhere_. Even before Morgana started avoiding Arthur's best friend like the plague, his big, goofy, in-no-way-whatsoever-endearing grin has always been there behind every corner, ever since her brother adopted him as his . . . Friend? Victim? Brother? Punching bag? Maybe for guys all those things run into the same river, but Morgana has very little inkling on how that relationship works - only that, somehow, it does. And it means when Morgana goes downstairs nine times out of ten she sees the back of a very dark head of hair, sitting on the couch next to Arthur playing video games or watching strange, 80s action flicks, 'Don't ask why,' . . . and now she ends up retreating back to her room.

Of course, the past year or so his whole 'constant presence' thing definitely changed. The two merry pair ended up going to different universities, Arthur's allowing him to still live at home and Merlin's requiring him to move out during the school year, about two and a half hours away. So instead of Merlin's face being part of an everyday occurrence for Morgana, its been a rare thing. Christmas, a few random weekends, Arthur's birthday, Spring Break . . .

But Spring Break is not a subject allowed in this private musing. Hell no. Morgana subsequently crumples the whole event into a wad of jumbled memory and mentally wedges it into the cracks of flab that guy walking past is displaying, the one that really should invest in a water shirt for the sake of this whole water park. Never to be retrieved again.

"You look like you're planning out someone's murder," Gwen says, appearing out of nowhere. Or, more likely, from the _Employee - Only_ Door behind them.

"I'm just thinking," Morgana defends, crossing her arms. "Why does _everyone_ say that?"

"Maybe you just actually have that 'fierce resting face' everyone's joking about," Gwen grins, and Morgana grins back.

"You know that's not actually the phrase they use," she says, and laughs when Gwen - sweet, pure, innocent Gwen - raises her hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, maybe not exactly. Regardless, I was almost as afraid as I used to be approaching you, just now. Bad day?"

"Funny you should ask."

"You'll have to tell me about it once you clock out," Gwen says, re-hoisting her purse over her shoulder. The thing is huge, as in suspiciously so. You totally think anyone with that kind of monster-mother-load-carrier must be an administrator of drugs or stolen babies or something. Until, of course, you meet Gwen for five seconds.

Morgana knows its true purpose in size, a wonderful source of endless teasing: the girl has a _library_ in there.

"Wait a sec," Morgana realizes, connecting the dots, "you have your bag. You're leaving. I thought we had the same schedule today? I thought you were giving me a ride home?"

"I switched schedules last minute with that idiot Cedric, remember? That's why I was here earlier than you," Gwen says, again attempting to reposition that purse on her shoulder. It probably weighs as much as she does.

"But I didn't realize that meant you were leeeaaving me," Morgana moans. "Now I'll have to hitch a ride with _Gwaine_." That boy does not know when to shut up - one car ride with him and Morgana has often wished for a needle of the sharp variety, to puncture her ear drums and enjoy the blissful silence that would follow.

"Well, yes and no," Gwen shifts hips, worrying at her lip slightly, "I'm still giving you a ride. And Gwaine. We can drown him out with some Paper Route?"

"I vote hardcore Muse," Morgana says flatly. "But that's like, five hours from now. What are you going to do with all that time in between?" Gwen shrugs, but her eyes betray her, flicking to the purse at her waist. "Ahhhhh," Morgana deducts gleefully, "Of course one must not forget the preparedness of Guinevere Leodegrance, Queen of YA Romance."

"Its not just romance!" Gwen defends, clutching the bag protectively now. "Be glad I have it, or I would be leaving you all alone with Gwaine!" Morgana is the one raising her hands in surrender now, though she's grinning ear from ear. "And I should go. I'm not technically supposed to be talking to you now, anyway," she trots off, in a very Gwen-like manner of trying to be upset but not quite getting it down. And Morgana feels infinitely better.

* * *

><p>The next two hours go like this: Morgana gets off break, alternates through the different rides and swimming areas, and generally keeps her head about things. No mental breakdowns and counting. Of course every now and then she'll spot a signature blond and not-so-blonde pair of young men leisure-ing through the park and its attractions, but thankfully never quite so near as the first time.<p>

Morgana is up at the Double-Dare Drop, generally enjoying the breeze and cover of the canopy over her head with fellow employee Lancelot, when the peace ends.

"You're coming this weekend, right?" he's asking, all smile and Spanish charm.

Morgana grimaces in play. "Is it required?"

"Yes," he replies easily, "even the managers are coming - except Aggravaine."

"How rude of you," Morgana shakes her head, and his eyes narrow.

"You mean how rude of you and Gwen," Lancelot argues, "considering you deleted him off my party list. Don't think I didn't notice."

She's caught. Two weeks ago, when Lancelot's Magic Geysers Park Employee End-of-the-Season Celebration party was still in the works, she and Gwen had stolen Lancelot's phone from the break room - Gwen happened to know his locker combo, perks of being his girlfriend once upon a time - looked through the list and deleted Aggravaine De Creeps from it. A not so subtle hint for Lancelot to spare everyone else from the man's presence.

"I suggested you didn't invite him, and just like I thought, you were going to anyway."

"It is my party. And _I_ thought you two were chums most of this summer?"

Yeah. Until Aggravaine's intense friendliness turned into intense creepiness. Morgana never had the greatest vibes from the man, but once he started putting his hand around his waist, placing his hand on top of hers, not so discreetly staring at her boobs - which aren't that distracting, REALLY - and overall oozing nasty affection every time she is ever downwind of him, Morgana has employed her amazingly effective super power of avoidance.

Maybe that's why she couldn't keep it up with Merlin. She's stretched too thin, trying to hide from two _very-everywhere_ individuals. Except Merlin probably isn't trying, and Aggravaine couldn't try more _if he_ _tried_, so to speak.

"Not anymore. If he's coming, I'm not," she threatens. "You can go now." Well, that last part was actually to the kid waiting to jump down the slide of death.

Then, just like the kid screaming his brains out down the slide, Morgana's level-head takes the same 85 degree drop.

"Hey! Fancy seeing you again."

Arthur and Merlin are both smiling in line, just outside the canopy, though Arthur's looks murderous and Merlin's looks a lot more tentative.

"Went to meet up with you during your break, but according to Gwaine it'd actually just ended," Arthur continues, arms folded across his big, annoyingly-golden chest.

Morgana, in any kind of situation besides this one, would quite quickly smile and lie through her teeth. Turn it around and make Arthur look like a complete idiot - which isn't much of a feat, in all honesty - and walk away feeling all the better.

Of course, in _this_ situation, she's having trouble enough not screaming at Arthur for breaking their agreement, not picturing his head on said spike whilst cackling manically, and not noticing Merlin's faltering facade of a smile, fighting a losing battle against a look of despondency.

What has Morgana done to deserve this? Silly Question.

After enough amount of silence Arthur's given up waiting for her answer. "That's just plain rude, you know," he snaps, moving closer as the line shrinks.

"You can go," she nods at the person waiting, inwardly flinching. Oh why oh why oh why why why . . .

"If you didn't want to meet up you could have just said so," Merlin shrugs, still playing the unhurt angle, and this is all WAY too familiar:

It brings to memory that infamous night, at the beginning of summer, when Arthur had about a million people over in celebration, and Morgana saw Merlin for the first time since Spring Break. It was so public, so many people there, yet they still managed to flirt up a windstorm for a good two hours. But of course, by the time the night _ended_ . . .

By then she was looking at what she's looking at now: A badly-concealed, rejected Merlin, putting on a friendly I-don't-care facade - because of Morgana.

"I'm sorry," she says, but still has to defend, "I'm not actually supposed to be socializing then, anyway."

Merlin nods, and of course that apology repaired _nothing_. Morgana just feels stupid and horrible and a supreme vixen, which is a word she looked up in a thesaurus once when someone insulted her with it. Vixen pretty much sums her up, right now.

But here's a completely different story that won't make sense till it does - the first day Morgana and Gwen met Lancelot he was already working at Magic Geysers, the nameless, smoking-hot, Spanish _god_ who went to the other school across town. Gwen, and yes, admittedly Morgana, were both drooling all over the premises oggling at him, following him like the creepy stalkers they were whenever he switched to guard a different area. Then, about a month later, the unthinkable happened - Gwen got sucked under one, two, three waves at Hurricane Harbor, and Lancelot just so happened to be the nearest on-duty lifeguard.

Because of all that, the first kiss Gwen and Lancelot shared was while she was unconscious - though apparently it was still magnificent, according to the drowned one. Lancelot started (and ended, by the way) their relationship as her white knight. And the more you get to know Lancelot, you know that he takes it upon himself, it is literally his mission _in life_, to save people. Which makes him a pretty good lifeguard, by any standard.

And a particularly good friend in situations like these:

"Well, I'm having a party this Saturday. You can socialize then!" He swoops in, delivering the death blow to the black knight of awkwardness and misunderstandings.

Little does he know its immortal.

"Ummm . . . well, I might be busy," Merlin shifts from foot to foot, keeping his eyes on the slide he's about to sit on, the one Morgana is guarding.

"Well you should come, if you can," Morgana hears herself saying, and inwardly curses herself when he looks at her in confusion, because: eye contact. Bad idea, for all brain cells involved.

"Maybe, I'd have to see," he mumbles, and sits at the edge, looking pretty uncomfortable.

With his mind-warping gaze off of her, she manages, "Hope you can," and that was definitely NOT a good idea because now he's staring at her, but not in confusion. Its more like he's deciding . . . whether he believes her.

She wants to dispel that worry, but all that slips off her tongue is, "You can go, now."

* * *

><p>Gwen's car is a comforting sight even if Gwaine is already in it, both waiting on Morgana.<p>

"How are the fictional boyfriends?" Morgana raises an eyebrow as she snaps herself into shotgun. Gwaine didn't even try for the front seat over her, which is both hilarious and smart on his part.

"Great," Gwen blushes, tucking a curl behind her ear. "In the one I was reading, the guy's an alien - sent to kill the human race like the rest of his species - "

"But there's just this one girl he just can't kill," Morgana sighs dramatically, laughing when Gwen slaps her in the arm.

"YES! He realizes how good humanity is because of her," she pouts.

Gwaine apparently decides his voice hasn't filled up the car in too long, because he starts, "You know if I was an alien, and I met a foxy human girl, I'd just use my crazy super-alien powers to - "

He keeps going, but Gwen nods at Morgana in almost military-like fashion, and soon enough Muse is blasting through the car speakers so loud even Gwaine can't compete with his smutty, alien/human dialogue.

He tries of course, but then just settles for singing along - just their _luck_ that he actually knows any of the band's songs besides _Madness_ and _Uprising_ - and screeching through the high notes, which actually is more amusing than it is horrendous, by just a bit. Morgana goes for forgetting that Merlin ever showed up today because _why -_ or that she ever LIED STRAIGHT TO HIS FACE like that would work because she is a _vixen, AND NOW _gone and invited him to a party she'll just be avoiding him during because of the coward that she _is_ -

With all that in mind, its not a wonder she can't get it _out_ of her mind. By the time Gwen pulls up to let Gwaine out, Morgana is kneading at her thighs with her hands like a mad woman. Or perhaps kneading isn't the right word; its more of an angry stroke, up and down, over and over. Tell-tale signs she just recently made an idiot of herself.

"All right, Morgana: spill," Gwen says the second Gwaine shuts the door, not even bothering with her usual niceties of "Your Welcome" and "See you later" and "Have a good evening." She's obviously noticed the angry thigh strokes.

"Ughhhhhhh whhhhhyYYYYYYYYYY!" is about how it goes the first couple of minutes, amidst Morgana stomping her feet and pounding on the dashboard.

Other variations:

" - Just run into that semi coming, just for my sake, please - "

" - Oh why oh WHY oh why oh WHYYYYYYY - "

" - HIS EYES, ITS NOT MY FAULT, HIS _EYES_ - "

" - UGHHHHNNNNNNNNNGGGHHHNNNNNNNGGGGHH - "

" - because I'M a _VIXEN, THAT'S_ WHY - "

So yeah, pretty bad. Eventually Gwen gets the gist:

"Morgana I get it! MORGANA! STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO TRIGGER THE AIR BAG!"

It takes a while, but yes, things do eventually run their course. Gwen stops driving and pulls over in the first two minutes like the responsible person she was born as, and is now staring at Morgana, she realizes, like she's grown a pair of donkey ears or devil horns. Morgana votes the latter - Gwen would probably find the donkey ears _cute_, damn her.

"Okay. Let's take this nice and easy," Gwen says, hands half-raised likely in defense. Morgana might have accidentally whacked her at some point. "How did this all . . . start?"

"Spring _Breeeaaaak_," Morgana moans, regretfully digging the crushed up ball of memories from earlier, where she swore she'd never retrieve them - in the cracks of that one guy's flab. It might just be her, but they seem like they smell, just a bit.

"Okay, good," Gwen beams, probably because Morgana didn't just scream in capital letters at her. "I remember, kind of. You went touring, in France - with Arthur and Merlin, right?" Morgana nods, slumping back in her seat. "And you and Merlin . . . ? Had a fling? Of some sort?"

"No. Yes. Kind of."

"Okay, so it wasn't really set-in-stone, for you anyway. Then the party this summer, which I was there for. Which wasn't your- which was wasn't _completely_ your fault," she amends hurriedly, looking frightened. Morgana's raised eyebrow can inspire remarkable changes like that. "But at the time all you said to me was that Merlin hated you and you deserved it. That's all I know."

"It was the truth," Morgana sighs, squeezing her eyes shut. "Except he _doesn't_ hate me. I wish he did."

"He _is_ Merlin," Gwen says, like that explains it all away.

"YES! He is Merlin, the bane of my existence! My ultimate DOOM!"

"I think you're exaggerating a little here."

"The whole day, today, I didn't hardly see him, Gwen, but I could _feel_ him there. Like this presence in the back of my mind, tormenting me!"

"And you're blaming poor Merlin for it? That you are hopelessly obsessed with him?"

That gets Gwen a finger in the face. She stares at it, wide-eyed, as it waggles while Morgana speaks: "I. Am. NOT. Obsessed."

But, like the good friend she insists on being, Gwen doesn't back down. "_You are_. You've avoided him the whole summer ever since then, on constant high alert, checking with Arthur incessantly that Merlin will not be at so-and-so's party or whats-it's get-together. You talk about him to me practically always - don't think I'm not aware those 'hypothetical situations' aren't _actually_ about John and Jane - and pull out your hair almost the second you two finally cross paths in a real situation. _Tell me_ that doesn't mean you're obsessed."

Well, when she puts it that way.

"_What do I dooo!?_" Morgana groans, throwing her head back on the head-rest.

"Shag him."

Gwen's straight face lasts about .5 seconds before she starts guffawing, Morgana glaring. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it!" she laughs, almost tearing up.

Morgana shakes her head. "Its slightly disturbing how funny such things are, to a person like you."

Gwen wipes the moisture from her eyes. And giggles, just a little. "Sorry. You should talk to him," she sobers, putting a hand on Morgana's. "Explain to him what happened at the party, why you said what you did."

"But what if he understands, but is _still_ hurt by it?"

"I think its too late for him not to be hurt, by now," says wise Gwen. "But, if he likes you enough, he'll forgive you."

Gwen shifts the car to drive, looking to pull back onto the street - and then gives Morgana an appraising glance. "I'm going to start driving again, now," she says slowly, like she's talking to a lunatic, "so if you feel like losing it again, you'll have to _wait_ till we get to your house. Okay?"

So fine. Morgana waits.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And Lancelot's party will come sooner than she likes. This is a three-parter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Anyone have requests as to who's at the coworker party? Or just in general? That white little box below is calling.**  
><strong>Comments are love, my friends. And so are follows and favorites :D<strong>  
><strong>Cheers!<strong>  
><strong>LifeIndeed<strong>


	2. PART 2

**A/N: So, I lied, because I don't know how to write short stories apparently. But I promise not extend it another time after this time, I solemnly swear. The enormity of italics in this story is shameful and embarrassing, but I CAN'T PART WITH ANY OF THEM. There were a lot more before the final cut, let me tell you - I think that's primarily how my inward sass shows up whilst writing. As for the enormity of _words_ that happened in part two . . . sorry but not sorry?  
><strong>

* * *

><p>PART TWO: In which Morgana lets a hypothetical infant drown, Taboo and Tumblr are not for the faint-hearted, and want to know how Morgana ends up in a cramped laundry room, sporting a large blue stain on her dress, with Merlin? . . . Here's how.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Hey kids! Why did the teacher jump in the pool?"<em>

_"Why, Patty the Penguin?"_

_"Because she wanted to test the waters!"  
><em>

"Uggh - would you _please_ change stations?" Morgana finally sputters out.

Arthur's eyes meet hers through his rear view mirror. "I can't believe it. Morgana Pendragon just spoke to me. Spoke to me, out loud!"

"Yes you're quite privileged, yada yada, I don't care if you switch to _country_, ANYTHING, just -"

_" - only _two weeks_ left in your summer of fun, boys and girls! The whole family can join the party - tickets at Magic Geysers, now 15% - "_

Finally it cuts off. Arthur raises his eyebrows in the mirror, probably expecting a thank you - Morgana kicks his seat instead.

"They really should have gone with my joke," Gwaine sighs, sitting up-front alongside Arthur. Morgana rolls her eyes.

"Which was what?" Arthur asks, stupidly not remembering what happens when you give Gwaine an open-ended question.

"Why did the blonde place last in the 100-yard breast-stroke?"

"Why?"

"She didn't know she could use her hands!"

Classic Gwaine.

Arthur guffaws, almost misses a turn, almost _doesn't_ miss an angry smart-car scootering by, and makes it onto the main road by sheer luck alone. He's dropping the both of them off at work, since its Gwen's off-day, and Morgana is reminded _why_ she hates her brother driving her, suddenly.

She's been meaning to let him have it the past few days, but - as if he knew the telling off he would be getting back at home - her brother has spent most of Thursday and all of Friday away. And Morgana is willing to bet her imaginary left louboutin that means hanging about . . . well, with _Merlin_. So this is it. Not the ideal situation, seeing as she'll have to deal with Gwaine's unavoidable presence, but Morgana doubts Arthur will be as kind about her yanking at the sun visor, banging at the window glass, and pounding on the dashboard, as lovely wonderful Gwen was the other day. On second thought, perhaps it is better she has to contain herself.

"You've been avoiding me, you know," she starts, and Arthur snorts.

"No. I have a social life. You have Tumblr."

"Tumblr is a scary place, mate," Gwaine starts, "Not for the faint of heart. Looked up one thing on there and what did I find? Fanart with positions I didn't even _want_ to - "

"MOVING ON," Morgana interrupts, barely loud enough to stop him short of finishing. "Tumblr is not something you should try wrapping your little heads around. And fanart is just misunderstood. Oh! - _Speaking_ of misunderstandings, _brother_."

"Oh, Morgana," Arthur sighs in that patronizing tone of voice both he and Uther have reserved for and only for her name.

"Don't 'oh, Morgana' me. You completely walked all over our agreement - in your stinky footie shoes, probably - and don't tell me you didn't know! I don't care if Merlin sprung it on you last minute, you still could have - "

"_Morgana_." He waits, like he's expecting her to rant anyway. Morgana just folds her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You're right, I - "

"I'm _right_?" She pounces right on that. Morgana is willing to bet her imaginary _right_ louboutin that that phrase has never before left Arthur Pendragon's mouth in the history of stubborn Pendragons. Wonders will never cease.

"YES! You're right." Arthur sighs again. "I did know. In fact, Merlin told me a week before that we should go, and I'd been meaning to tell you - but I didn't."

"Hold on you two," Gwaine says, all wide grin and mischievous eyes. "Is _this_ how you managed to avoid Merlin, Morgana? Paying Arthur to warn you whenever his best friend's plans put him in your way?"

"She actually isn't paying me. Too bad I didn't think of that," Arthur muses, looking disappointed. Well, his eyes do. Really all Morgana has in regards to nonverbal cues are his eyes in the mirror and the back of his gold-i-lock head.

"You've been doing it because you're a good friend and a slightly-not-shoddy brother _all of the time_, and you knew it would only makes things worse! And _it did_!" Oh no. Girly hormones leaking into her eyes. Morgana hastily finds her reflection in the window before either male notices, and glares the weepy redness away. (It retreats, alarmed.)

"Only because you completely ruined it yourself," Arthur snaps, the back of his gold-i-lock head looking disapprovingly at her. "I didn't tell you because I'm tired of this! You had a real chance, to fix it all up. To be friends, so _I_ don't have to sit through awkward dinners explaining to Dad and Merlin why you aren't coming down, _again_."

"Oh I'm sure its been horrible for you, you poor tortured thing," Morgana seethes, directing all malice into a beam directed through her eyes, at the nape of his neck. She can tell he feels it. "And you know why I've been avoiding him. Both of you do. I don't know what surprising me with Merlin was supposed to do, but it shouldn't be surprising to _you_ what happened. I panicked. And I was stupid, again. He was acting so - friendly, too, I don't know . . . it still doesn't make much sense. What on earth did you tell him?"

"Does it matter?" Arthur defends.

"Yes! It does if what you said is a _lie_, moron." She can imagine it now: _Morgana was being held at gun-point, mate. No, YOU were being held at gunpoint. That's all. That's the only reason ever that she'd even think to rip your beautiful, trusting heart out and run over it again and again in her hypothetical silver Lightning GT, _ever_. So don't worry about it._

Morgana wouldn't mind any of that being true - especially the Lightning GT, let's be real, here - but it isn't. None of it is.

"I don't lie," is all Arthur says, before adding, "And now my efforts are ruined. There's no way Merlin is coming tonight." Tonight as in Lancelot's Magic Geysers Park Employee End-of-the-Season Celebration Party. Morgana wishes she could say the same.

"I figured he wouldn't," she says, inwardly wincing at the forlorn tone her voice just took. "Doesn't matter," she tries again, this time flippantly, "It's not like either of you are even employed at Magic Geysers, anyway."

"Ah, come on, Morgaaney," Gwaine says, turning completely around in his seat to look at her. She glares at the use of his old endearment, but he just smiles wider. "You know you want him to be there. You want to melt into his dreamy blue eyes" - he bats his eyelashes - "and get forgiven for all your _lies_ and evil misdoings, no matter how much you defend them on a regular basis. Then, by the power of his luscious healing lips, you'll be granted the _magical_ kiss of redemption, and - "

Arthur starts laughing about halfway through all that, and Gwaine has to stop when the former swerves, almost missing the turn - _again_ - to the entrance of the water park, its semi-impressive rides looming above in wait. Morgana holds onto the door in alarm.

"Here we are," Arthur says rather cheerfully, driving up to the main path. The parking lot is empty almost, probably in response to the early morning's damp, thick cloud-cover. He claps Gwaine on the shoulder, looking at them both.

"Have a great day, Gwaine. Morgana - have the day you deserve."

* * *

><p>Funny little quirk about lifeguard duty - you get to wear sunglasses and nod at strangers all day.<p>

Nodding, of course, being a relative term. Technically Morgana is 'scoping,' as she likes to call it, a term referring to the constant scanning the 10:20 system requires. The lifeguard should be able to scan their designated area in ten seconds, and reach any swimmer within it in twenty. Her designated area happens to be about thirty meters of the lazy river, which encircles 'Patty's Playplace.' Meaning soon she'll have to face the worst shift out of all 25 at this park.

But for now its all nodding her head up and down, scanning over the sparse people, relaxed adults and splashing teens, not whipping her head back and forth trying to both ignore and pay attention to the squalling children. Once one little tyke grabbed her fanny pack from behind and almost made her slip - there's no proof, but Morgana's positive he actually meant to grab her arse.

A man actually did that, once, in France, she muses. In the middle of a street too. Morgana remembers promptly turning around and kicking him in the shin - _hard_.

Of course, she also remembers Merlin's furious face, which was so intimidating it might even contest with hers. That was the start of the weekend Arthur came down with the flu, and waved them off without him for three days straight. The longest, craziest, whirlwind of a weekend she'll probably ever experience, full of good food and beautiful sites and Merlin smiles and finally . . .

"Morgana. Morgana!"

Morgana blinks, focusing in on the waving arms of Agravaine. He looks - for once - very, very stern.

Once he starts moving near her Morgana finally spots it - the baby doll 'Rescue Cathy' sunk in the water, orange neon diaper and all. By the time he's picked it up and waded toward her, she's mentally beaten the pulp out of herself.

"I'm so sorry, Agravaine! I don't know what happened! Usually - "

"Usually you're our fastest spotter," he tilts his head, giving her a patronizing look. And of course it _has_ to be Agravaine, here assessing her failure, not Morgause or Cenred. This is her luck. "Off today, Morgana? Are you feeling alright?"

"I . . . actually, I am feeling a bit off. I think I might be - thirsty." Agravaine raises his eyebrows and, of course, takes the opportunity to get right in Morgana's face. Meanwhile, she's still having to guard her area and dig her nails into her palms, the easier _not_ to strangle him with.

"Hmmm," he says, still close up, "You look like you might need a drink."

"Maybe," she says, gritting her teeth. About this close - the distance between his face and hers, actually - from pushing him into the water.

"Yes. How about you and - _YELP_."

There's no other word comparison that would fit. Agravaine literally _yelps_ when, as if a particular lifesaver has read her mind, certain hands shove him into the lazy river and onto some very obese man - and _it can't be_, but _it is_, its the same guy with the flab Morgana was trying to hid her problems in a few days ago - before he's dunking himself and the man both into the water.

Gwaine folds his arms, beaming next to her as Agravaine splutters up for air.

"Your welcome," he says smugly, probably because the hinge has broken in Morgana's mouth and she can't quite seem to close it. "For that, obviously. But also, you should know I got Merlin to come."

"Wuh . . . what?" Morgana says intelligently, staring at him. He's already nodding his head, sweeping across the area.

"To the party? He's coming. Don't ask how, you don't want to know, but I managed it. Now you need to go - but wear the red one, tonight. _Trust_ me." She's gaping at him, but for once in the existence of humanity, the man before her has nothing else to say. Today is full of firsts.

So with her heart pounding in a mixture of terror and elation, Morgana goes for another first as she jogs to 'Patty's Playplace' and high-fives Patty the Penguin for once in her entire employment. When the big bucket of water rains down, the children cheer.

* * *

><p>There's a bit of back-story if you're going to understand why Morgana knew what Gwaine meant by 'the red one.'<p>

First of all, when Gwaine moved in at the end of the street his father was still alive and his mother was still happy, and when his father traveled he brought Gwaine back a myriad of strange things. So, starting on the first day at his new school, Gwaine was wearing a poncho.

Second of all, Morgana didn't know any of this until Arthur and Merlin brought home a friend they called 'Poncho,' a friend who was more friendly than even Merlin and more rude than even Arthur. He stopped wearing ponchos, though - a year in and his father died, killed by a drunk driver. Still, he winked at her and flirted with her and made passes at her all the way up until Merlin and Arthur left for university.

_Then_ he kissed her. That would be third of all. For about six months, it was a fiery, passionate high. She is the reason he kept growing out his hair; he is the reason she applied for this job at all. Then eventually she got bothered about how much he flirts with any living, breathing thing - Vivian was just the last straw - and he got bothered apparently by her 'constant need to dominate' and 'can you please not harp on me about what I'm doing, every second of every day?'

And, last of all, they stayed friends. So, despite the fact its over, Gwaine has agreed to put on a facade that keeps Agravaine at bay, and Morgana just rolls her eyes when he still flirts with her, and he knows things like that she loves raspberry punch, hates most genres of music, and looks best in 'the red one.' And finally, cares about her enough, still, to advise she wear said clothing whilst man-catching.

_My ex advised me on what to wear to the party tonight, since a certain wizard is showing up_, Morgana messages to a close Tumblr friend.

Aye_Thusa replies: _Does said ex like the same type as a certain wizard?_

_Good question. Definitely no, but I think said ex knows that._

Aye_Thusa: _They know each other?_

_Its a small word in which I live, Thusa. An isolated island full of imbeciles._

Aye_Thusa: _Alliteration! I like. And a certain wizard is referring to who you said 'put a spell on you,' right?_

_Wow. I forgot I said that, that's embarrassing. Its mostly because his name is Merlin, actually._

Aye_Thusa: _Oh yeah! Merlin, I remember. The one whose heart you ripped out accidentally, because of your ex and his new girl._

_Technically, yes. But, in all honesty, no. Its on me._

Aye_Thusa: _Oh - yeesh. But now there's hope, for tonight . . . ?_

_Not really. But I want to at least apologize. He deserves it - he's such an idiot he doesn't even hate me yet._

Aye_Thusa: _Ouch, sorry. Good luck._

_Thanks._

She shimmies into the red one and stands in the mirror, contemplative. It'll have to do. A bit of red lipstick and eye make-up, and the rest is on her charm.

So, basically, as she's lamented before, Morgana is doomed.

* * *

><p>"Morgana! Gwen! Come on in!"<p>

Lance beams at them as they step through, though a second later he melts back into the party and leaves them to it. Gwen looks fine with that - they both aren't completely comfortable in the same space, for too long, unlike Morgana and Gwaine - but Morgana gets that. She smiles, spotting a few friends, and strictly keeps her eyes from wandering. From searching.

But it doesn't matter regardless. First Morgana spots the back of him, talking to someone she can't see, then a short girl Morgana doesn't recognize reaches to tap him on the shoulder and Morgana sees the full profile; there he is, in all his Merlin glory, wearing a strange-patterned shirt and wrinkled jeans. As heart-breaking as ever.

". . . right, Morgana? You were there, didn't you see - "

Morgana looks away, letting herself be drawn back into the conversation, and tries to not think about him. And ends up not thinking at all.

One hour later finds Morgana and Gwen on a couch, the former sipping some blue concoction - she has absolutely no idea what it is she's drinking, but her toes are starting to feel weirdly tingly - and the latter, water from her water bottle, being the wonderful, responsible, perfect Gwen that she is.

"My toes feel alive more than usual," Morgana informs Gwen, cocking her head at the strange dancing a couple is doing in the middle of the room. Or, more accurately, the strange _writhing_. The music is pulsing, and equally repulsing.

Gwen frowns in answer and gives her a concerned look; Morgana frowns too, after her friend tries to take away the blue stuff and some of it ends up splashing on her dress. "That's enough for you," her friend decides, prying it from her hands. "Come on, let's dance." She pulls Morgana up by the arms.

Morgana groans, but obeys. The second they stand, however, that one short girl from before comes up to Gwen. "Hey! You sober enough to play some Catch-phrase? I brought it and we need more people!"

Gwen agrees and tugs a sulky Morgana downstairs, following the girl, despite her protests of "I don't even know what catch phrase is!" and "I'm not sober enough, Gwen, don't make me."

But said friend only rolls her eyes, and okay, maybe Morgana is not note-ably arseholed quite yet. But she should really be getting around to finding Merlin, and confronting her problems, and _apologizing_ -

Bugger and blast.

There he is, sitting quite comfortably against a couch and laughing at something someone's said. His head rests against the cushion, exposing an indecent amount of neck, and Morgana gulps. Her vision goes temporarily white when he sits up straight, eyes reaching hers.

Then it goes red, not so temporarily, when the short girl who just brought them down here pops a squat right up against him. "So we have enough people!" she says excitedly, as Morgana numbly sits next to Gwen on the ground. She's staring at the space between the two - or more like, the _lack of space_ between the two - like if she looks long enough, something will set on fire. Hopefully, the girl's tool skirt.

"Right, let's get this on with, then," Gwaine grumbles from his slouch above Merlin, on the couch. His head on Vivian's lap, who beams at Morgana. She glowers back. The couple on the love seat - Morgause and Cenred, her managers, _gross_ - pause from their snogging session to nod rather unenthusiastically.

The trespassing girl starts going on about the point of the game and the rules and how to win, whilst Morgana ignores her in favor of snatching small glances at Merlin. It might just be her, but it seems like he is too. By the time the game starts and the girl has out a strange, red talking disc thing, Morgana realizes she has no idea what she's playing still.

"Its something you eat, and you toss it - "

" - Salad?"

" - Yes, salad, its a _kind_ of salad - "

" - Caesar salad! Tossed salad! Fruit salad!"

"What _the hell_ are they doing?" Morgana mutters to Gwen, who elbows her rather hard in the ribcage.

"They're your team! You have to figure out what she's describing!" she whispers back urgently.

" - bock, bock, bock bock bock!" The girl stands up and starts making strange chicken noises - Gwaine, who must be on her team as he's been guessing things like "Radish?" and "Naughty salad!", is staring blankly at her - and Morgana suddenly realizes what is going on.

"Chicken salad!" she says, and Freya collapses in giggles, almost frisbee-ing Merlin with the ticking red disc in the face.

Merlin's turn is next: "Oh, this one! Cinderella lost her...?"

"Glass slipper!" Gwen says, and he nods quickly, "Well yes, which is a kind of...?"

"Shoe," Cenred says, and Merlin continues, "So what's a common phrase, regarding shoes, about somebody - someone filling a stereotype!"

Blank faces all around. He groans, though he's smiling, and racks his head with a fist. "Ugh, ugh, what is it, what is it . . . Oh! Yes!" He looks at Morgana straight on, eyes bright and wide - she swallows down her heart, which has the audacity to skip a beat _into her throat_ - saying: "That cheesy movie with the idiot male and the Cinderella shoe designer in Paris!"

She blinks, immediately remembering: "_If the Shoe Fits_, if the shoe fits wear it!"

The buzzer goes off a second after.

"MORGAAAANAAA," Gwaine groans as the other team cheers, and leans over the couch to (try to) flick her head. She evades him easily. "Merlin is _not on our team_, however much you wish him to be."

Oh. Right.

She immediately feels her circulatory system go haywire; all the blood rushing from her brain, moving to color her cheeks. Not knowing how to feel, that she instantaneously remembered that cheesy 90's flick Arthur insisted they keep the channel on for one night when Morgana joined in on flick watching, because it was set in Paris and right before their trip.

Not that she _really_ remembers much except Merlin's arm casually flung on the back of the sofa - behind her. Or their knees, bumping every now and then. Or a line Merlin found extraordinarily hilarious, something about 'covering body parts' that had him breaking into full-out guffaws. Leaning into her.

Gwaine's comment could have passed right by Merlin, if this was a merciful world in which she lives, but it isn't. His eyes widen comically first, then he stares at Gwaine like he just spoke Portugese. _Then_ his gaze flicks to Morgana, who immediately looks away - at Gwen's face, which is at least safe ground.  
>Though she looks like she's trying not to laugh.<p>

"Let's GO," Morgana mouths, pleading. Then glaring when her friend shakes her head, amused.

Why is all of this so damn funny to everyone else?

Now Morgana has to assert dominance. Gain control over this situation, before things take a turn down cackling laughs and big scary, bugging eyes. Which is not a road she wants to go down again. "I couldn't help myself," she says, probably overdoing it by tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her eyes flash from Merlin onto a much-safer-to-look-at Gwaine, explaining, "I'm not completely incapable of pity, Poncho."

And boy does that shut him up, which is not usually an easy task. She gets a fleeting thrill of assertiveness. But when she catches a strange, very-un-Gwaine-like flash of disappointment, Morgana realizes: she just said she felt _pity_ for _Merlin_.

What the hell is wrong with her? Serious question.

The game goes on, still. Short girl with her cute little face all craned up at Merlin constantly - that's Freya apparently - starts keeping score for each person's number of guesses, just for extra competition, and Morgana of course falls dramatically behind.

"Banana peels!"

"Standing ovation!"

"Christmas cards!"

"Bed bugs!"

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"Mardi Gras!"

You get the idea. By the time - or more accurately, long _after_ the time - Morgana is bemoaning her long gone, dubiously-concocted blue drink and its strange but pleasing properties, they call it quits. Morgana sits pretty firmly in last place; she only guessed Sherlock Holmes, frosting, and snowflakes right.

Speaking of last place, this is the last place and time she would ever pick to pull Merlin aside and basically . . . well, give him permission to hate her. But alas, the fates deem it so. Everyone is standing up - almost everyone, Gwaine and Vivian look half-asleep - so Morgana moves through them to reach Merlin.

"Hey, Mer - "

" - and then I could prove you wrong! I saw it on the gameboard shelf earlier!" Freya finishes saying, hand loosely on his forearm. _Merlin's_ forearm. Practically holy ground.

"Morgana?" Merlin says, not answering Freya. He's looking at her - with curiosity, but mostly wariness.

"Oh, were you just about to . . . ?" she lets it hang, let's him brush off whatever this insistent girl is proposing.

But Freya chimes in just as Merlin's mouth opens. "We were going to match our skills, since we tied. Taboo, its an older game, but basically the same thing. Wait - oooo!" Her eyes fill with excitement, and Morgana has a feeling this is about to get bad. "You could be the buzzer, Morgana!"

* * *

><p>Chortle as much as necessary, Morgana <em>knows<em> this is laughable.

She gets to sit between these two newly-budding love birds - _would you look at the eyes_ Freya is making him every time she starts describing something, especially if its a pleasant thing, like she's describing _him_ for bloody sake - and pretend to laugh with them and buzz when the time goes out and secretly wonder if Merlin wouldn't want an apology in the least, anyway.

Taboo is much, much worse than whatever the last game was, she decides. Definitely not for the faint-hearted.

"Morgana, are you all right?"

Only a voice like that could rip her in such a way from Morgana's musings, with all of the shock and none of the pain. Merlin is looking concernedly at her, though his time is running out she notices, and Freya's complaining with "Don't stop! I'm almost there!"

He just keeps staring at her worriedly, saying, "Is something wrong?"

Her jaw would drop, it really would, if she hadn't just opened it already to say something. Because he really shouldn't care, about her. Not anymore.

What the hell is wrong with _him_? Serious question.

"Maybe its something I drank," Morgana excuses, standing and giving them both a shaky smile. "Sorry."

She runs out before she can analyze either of their faces, cringing because _could this night get worse?_

Apparently yes: "Morgana! Good to see you again!"

Vivian has stood up from the couch; she walks forward, between Morgana and the stairs door now.

"Is it?" Morgana replies testily, trying to side-step her, but the girl won't allow it.

"Its been since forever! Back when Gwaine hadn't even tanned yet," Vivian grins, not saying Morgana because she hasn't. Tanned, _at all_. "How've you been?"

Morgana narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, so tired of pleasantry at this point in the (morning?) night.

"I still don't know what you're upset at me, for," she grins, widening her buggy little eyes, smiling innocently. And Merlin and Freya are just around the corner.

"Maybe we could play _a little game_, then," Morgana says, grabbing her by the arm and tugging Vivian to an empty room. The laundry room, it seems to be, and Morgana remembers this being the room Lancelot and Gwen got caught snogging senselessly in. "Let's you pretend for a second that you'll never speak to me again, and I pretend I won't consider poisoning you. Sound like a deal?"

Vivian's pout gives way to an outright scowl; it fits her face much better, honestly. "Don't blame me for your issues with that kid. Whatever he heard - they were your words, not mine."

"You knew he started listening!"

"And I thought it was a good way to let him off easy!" She rolls her eyes at Morgana, sporting a sour smirk. "I did you a favor, you know," she says, haughty. "You're completely out of his league. You deserve way better."

"You're wrong," Morgana says in a hard voice, clenching her jaw. "_He_ deserves better." Then she wrenches the door open, ready to kick Vivian out - and gets hit by a major wave of deja vu.

Because for the second time in her life Morgana ends a conversation about Merlin with Vivian in closed quarters, only to find him standing right outside the door. This time, though, Merlin doesn't stutter out some unintelligible apology, grab his keys and leave. His eyes are staring straight into hers; bright, wide, intense.

"We need to talk," he says. And pulls Vivian out none too gently, shutting the door behind him.

This is how Morgana ends up in a cramped laundry room, sporting a large blue stain on her dress, with Merlin.

What is up with her life? Serious question.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I could have NOT divided part two in half, but since the word length was pretty obscene I figured it'd just be better to go back on my word. Sorry! Shout out to the reviewers, always an inspiration to know that people like and WHAT people like! And holaketi**, **thanks for the suggestion. It wasn't a major component of this conflict obviously, but hopefully how I put her in was to your liking :) Review, follow, favorite! Till next time.  
>Cheers!<br>LifeIndeed  
><strong>


	3. PART 3

**A/N: SO last part has arrived, in all its monumental glory, and though this story dug its heels in and kicked and screamed like a toddler, I've managed to finally wrap it up. Not sure what else to say except enjoy - soooooooo: Enjoy! THAT'S AN ORDER.**

* * *

><p>PART THREE: In which all that back-story gets mostly cleared up, there's no law against public displays of affection (no matter what Lance says), and maybe a resolution is hiding somewhere in between the UST part and the snogging-each-other's-brain's-out part. Maybe.<p>

* * *

><p>This all started three months ago, right as summer started and Morgana was still pinching herself. Just to make sure sixth form was actually over, that it was truly her last summer before university.<p>

Well, 'this all' meaning Morgana completely avoiding Merlin.

"I don't understand you, Morgana," he starts - skipping forward to these two in the laundry closet, now - with none of the confidence he exhibited in kicking out Vivian. But he hasn't broken off his gaze, and she's really hoping desensitization applies even to things like Merlin's eyes.

"For awhile, we . . . but then you . . ." he breathes out in exasperation, staring at her with furrowed brows. Gaze assessing, once again. "Just tell me what's going on, all right?"

"I - " Morgana shuts her mouth shut, remembering what's most important to say. "I'm sorry."

It doesn't cause the effect she intended - Merlin steps back, expression pained. Like the phrase has physically wounded him. "I'm sorry then, as well," he says finally, and her heart pulses like a smarting thumb when his hand reaches for the doorknob.

"No!" She grabs his hand, stops him just as he touches it. Merlin looks up, face shuttered. "I don't. I don't mean sorry - like that. I mean, I'm sorry this has gotten so messed up and I'm such a vixen and - " she takes a big breath, bracing herself, " - every time I look at you I want to kiss you."

He blinks. Quirks an eyebrow. "What . . . what's a vixen?"

Morgana can't help but laugh out an exasperated sound - _that's_ what his ears caught?

"She-demon, I think. I looked it up once." A corner of his mouth tugs up.

This, as in the way Morgana's heart is currently fluttering like a broken-winged hummingbird, can't be blamed on some pin-pointed summer party. She's always had the slightest of crushes on her brother's best friend, always felt drawn to him even when she blamed it on Merlin being a much better brother than her actual one. The older she's gotten, the more she's realized how very much that is not the case.

For one, she's never wanted to kiss her brother flat on the mouth when he leaned closer to her reaching for something - right in front of Gwaine, too, when they were still together. And she's never craved her brother's laugh like a person craves happiness, like she's craved Merlin. And then Arthur insisted to Uther he brought along Merlin so he and Morgana didn't "rip each others' throats out in Paris," when Spring Break finally rolled around and Merlin had been away so long his presence was like a shock, and Arthur was sick for three days and it was just her and Merlin and _them,_ and all the feelings she's kept casually locked up . . . just tumbled loose.

When they kissed, for the first time. Not below the Eiffel Tower or anything cheesy - right in front of the hotel room's door, Arthur blissfully ignorant just on the other side. Which, funny enough, made it all the more thrilling.

She told him to close his eyes, and when he wouldn't, she said, "Just_ trust_ me."

He closed his eyes. They kissed.

Morgana would love to kiss the tiny grin right off Merlin's face right now, and forget all formalities. But he deserves an explanation - no matter how it's going to kill her, to give it.

"When I was talking to Vivian - then, not just now, I mean - she told me it was about Gwaine," Morgana starts, belatedly realizing she hasn't released her hold on his hand. "She started asking me about him, since they started dating just then and I was the ex, and I think she was worried about how much Gwaine still flirts with me."

"Understandable," Merlin nods, face unreadable.

"I tried to convince her of its harmlessness," Morgana continues, "and then . . . she mentioned you. Said Gwaine had commented on me and you, how I was, um, pining after you apparently, since ever. You seemed like you wanted to keep things under wraps - and _she_ seemed to want the inside scoop." Morgana is blushing, she _knows_ she is blushing, but he just keeps looking at her. Like he doesn't know, he didn't hear just outside the door that night, what happens next. "And I lied."

"You lied," he repeats, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Morgana insists, giving his hand a light squeeze. He looks down at it in slight surprise, like he hadn't noticed them joined either.

"You mean everything I heard was you throwing Vivian off the scent, because . . .?"

"Because I'm an insecure idiot," Morgana blurts out, knowing immediately the words are true. "And I-I lie when I feel like I'm losing control. Like what time my break was, a few days ago." She cringes on the memory, on the idiocy she can sometimes (oftentimes) exhibit in the face of uncertainty. So, the face of Merlin, really.

"How was meeting up during your break 'losing control'?" Merlin says in a reproachful tone, letting go of her hand now. There's hurt and vulnerability betrayed in his eyes, and Morgana wants to melt into the wall knowing she's the one who put it there.

"Haven't you noticed?" she laughs, probably hysterically, realizing how hopeless all her hope probably is. "I've been hiding away from you for three months, ever since you drove off from that party. Ashamed of myself."

"If you don't care about me like that, Morgana, all you ever had to do was say so," Merlin says, voice hollow. His face is drawn, consigned. "You didn't have to stay away from me for three months, take off work when you knew I'd be there, _lie_ about your break time just to avoid me. That's just - that's crazy."

And boy is he right.

But of course Merlin can't get it into his thick skull that all that actually means is she's head-over-bleeding-heels _in love_ with him.

"Have you been listening at all?" she snaps, stepping into his space. "Do your ears have some filter that doesn't allow you to hear me?" He looks confused, and Morgana wants to throw something. "When I say every time I look at you I want to _snog your face off_? That I've been_ pining for you since forever_?"

Maybe she should think before doing, because now that the ranting is over suddenly Morgana realizes how close they are. And she's never been good at the whole unresolved-sexual-tension thing. Close enough that, because he's looking down at her, she feels his breath on her face.

That's incentive enough. Morgana grabs his shirt collar and collides their mouths in what is first an awkward sort of lip maneuvering. Merlin even makes an "mmf!" of surprise. But then she angles her head just so, and her hand is moving to reach at the back of his neck, and their lips slide together in a rather intoxicating way, his taste bitten and lovely and _Merlin_, and that blue drink has nothing on what this kiss is making her _whole body feel_ . . .

And Merlin pushes her back. Not forcefully, just firmly creating enough space between them, relinquishing her hold on his mouth in a rather gentle way. In a rather heart-breaking way.

"Maybe they do," he whispers, voice low and oh so tempting even in rejection. Morgana takes a moment to realize what it means, though - eventually fitting together that he's actually answering her question.

That he doesn't believe her.

* * *

><p>Don't go hating on Merlin, now. Remember, no matter his many stupid choices made thanks to misunderstandings and self-sacrificing and sense of inadequacy (like this one), he will never be the bad guy.<p>

Morgana is the bad guy.

So, it goes with no surprise to her, when Merlin gives a very sad, soft smile and leaves the Tiny Laundry Closet of Failed Relationships, that Morgana has no one but herself to blame. Liquid misery is manifesting itself, smearing over her eyes once again, but this time there's no reflection to glare it away by. Its just her and her weepy woman hormones in this damned closet, now.

She trudges out eventually, intent on finding Gwen and getting the hell out of here. The party is over.

But while she makes her journey up the stairs, perhaps it'd help now to divulge exactly what Merlin heard out of Morgana's lips, that fateful night at Arthur's beginning-of-summer-party. To know where Merlin is coming from.

Basically, it was things like:

"Oh, him? Is that what Gwaine said?"

"No, no, not like that. Erm, we're just . . . we're just kind of getting to know each other, you know?"

"No! Me and Merlin don't -!"

"Okay, let me explain. I've known him forever, he's like a brother to me. Whatever crazy tale Gwaine has concocted, I swear . . ."

"I. Don't. Like. Him. I would never in a million years. He's not my type - _at all._ Can we please change the subject?"

"That's just because I felt bad! Anything Gwaine says he's heard me say, that I'm completely enamored with _Merlin Emrys_, IS A LIE."

Which all, was a lie.

It was after that last incriminating sentence that Vivian had shrugged, suggested they re-joined the party, and allowed Morgana to open the door herself and find Merlin staring shocked at her from the other side. Vivian smirking next to her, like she'd heard him and said nothing, letting Morgana unknowingly dig her own grave. But that didn't matter - however he had gotten there, no matter that he had eavesdropped, it was on her.

That he can't believe her now, after hearing the proclamation that all she'd ever said to him was a lie, is quite understandable. In fact, its rational.

That doesn't mean it stops bitter, harsh tears from pricking at the corner of her eyes. By the time she's trudging up the stairs, of course, Morgana has managed to withhold water works at least until she and Gwen get to the car, so there's little fear in opening the door at the top and creating a spectacle of herself. But when she does, just at the threshold of the main room, Merlin is standing there blocking the way. His back is to her, completely still in a strange, frigid way.

Then Morgana's ears catch up with her eyes, and she hears a whole crowd of whooping and cat-calling and egging-on.

Her first thought is who is stupid enough to get into a fight at this house, Lance will _slay them_, but then she sidesteps Merlin and realizes why he froze. Why he's staring at the spectacle everyone else seems to be routing on. Morgana's mouth pops open, eyes bugging practically out of her head as she stares.

At her brother and _Gwen._

* * *

><p>"Yes, I forgive you, No, I will never understand, and NEVER DO I EVER want to hear the details, you're going to have to find a new best friend for all that."<p>

"For what its worth, I am sorry," Gwen says, biting her lip adorably as she pulls out onto the street. Her face is all flushed and happy in a way it hasn't looked since . . . well, since Lance. "I realize how it might have been a tad - "

" - traumatizing?"

" - _Awkward_, I was going to say," Gwen flushes.

"Oh, of course. Finding your brother and your best friend snogging in front of the whole staff of Magic Geysers - just a _tad_ awkward." Gwen's flush deepens, and Morgana can't help but laugh. "But in all seriousness, Gwen: couldn't you get a room?"

And of course _that_ scandalizes dear Gwen, who gasps in shock and whacks Morgana in the arm. "_I _would _never_ - !"

"Yes, and that's why its pretty hilarious that you were snogging _my_ brother, the infamous _Arthur Pendragon_, notorious for having his way in situation more than one."

"Well," Gwen huffed, "I didn't realize people were staring. I was a bit . . . unaware."

"I can only imagine," Morgana grins wickedly, though trying very hard to not do just that. "I'm glad your evening at least turned out to your liking."

"Oh no! It didn't go well with Merlin," Gwen guesses, immediately concerned, and Morgana should feel bad about turning the conversation into about her dreary existence. But its apparently not enough to stop her.

"I wouldn't say so, no," she starts with a sardonic smile. "I mean, I explained best I could, apologized, tried kissing him, the whole shi-bang. And he said he didn't believe me. End of story." End of the sad, sad, pathetic story this whole thing has been. Morgana really should forget about the whole happily-ever-after ideal - start sporting some green eye shadow, grow dreadlocks, and seclude herself in a hovel from this point on.

"But that can't be right," Gwen frowns, "it can't be. When Arthur and I were talking - yes, we _were talking_ most of the time after he arrived, don't give me that look - he said Merlin was far more than willing to forgive you for anything you've done or said. He just didn't think you actually had feelings for him. But if you told him, if you _kissed_ him - "

"Apparently my lips aren't as persuasive as I'd like to think," Morgana jokes. And then sniffles.

To sob or not to sob? That is the question.

This time Gwen is pulling over on the side of the road not to wait out a tantrum, but to hug a crying friend.

* * *

><p>One of Morgana's favorite quotes about today: "If Monday had a face, I would punch it."<p>

She's with Lance, who for once isn't much his shining, optimistic self, and their bad moods perfectly complement the other. She checks that the idiot park-goers are sitting on their tubes probably, and he waits for the all-clear signal to let them head down the Splash Blaster, the biggest tube slide here. And then the two have a moment to share a look of loathing - about life, Monday, this job, all of the above. Its blistering hot up here, with no canopy or shade besides the sun-visor around her head, and Morgana is ready to leave this place if it means she has to get sacked to do it.

But break is in a half an hour. _Real_ break, not stand-by. She can make it till then, and if she can make it till then, maybe there's hope. Two lifeguards hike up the steps to replace them when the sun's finally dragged far enough across the sky, and Morgana could kiss them for it. (Except its Gwaine and Cedric - so probably not.)

Lancelot follows her down the steps, silent until they've reached the sidewalk back to the main path. "So are they serious, do you think?" he then asks, like he's asking for a death sentence.

"Who?"

He stares at her, his usual Spanish godliness slightly diminishing as he splutters, "Arth - Gwen and, and your brother, of course."

If Morgana had the strength of heart, she'd laugh. "Ahhhh, yes. The two love-birds, not-so-secretly eating each other's faces off the other night." She nods her head a few times, waiting until he looks like he's going to burst from anticipation - and shrugs. "No clue."

"I'm pretty sure people can get fined for showing that big a display of affection, publically." Lance frowns. He keeps frowning, thinks for a bit until it looks like he's hurt himself, and then sighs. "But - good for her, then. I hope . . . I hope they're happy."

This is where Lance lost Gwen - caring about her well-being so much he forgot to care about her, about _them_. "Me too," Morgana mutters, inwardly rolling her eyes as she tries to imagine Arthur attempting to be good enough for Gwen. They'd be laughable attempts.

Speaking of, Morgana walks out of the locker room ten minutes later only to find Arthur waiting there anxiously, just outside. "Morgana!" he says, clearly relieved, and starts following her out. "Do you know where Gwen is?"

"I really can't believe my ears," Morgana shakes her head and smirks, keeping her eyes trained forward as she walks. "To think not a week ago it'd be 'where's that friend of yours,' not her actual name - though I can't think of a time you've ever even asked that." She's headed back to the wave pool, around which there's exactly three hundred fold-up beach chairs. One of which is calling her name.

"I'd just come to pick up Merlin, and I figured I'd wait till he came up. I swear on my life I didn't_ intend_ to seduce your friend," he says, as always the pompous bastard. "It - "

"'_It just happened_,' I'm sure." Morgana starts walking quicker, hoping to shrug him off before she reaches her destination. Else she'll _never_ be rid of him.

"The funny thing is," Arthur says, easily matching her pace, "it started out with us talking about you two - you and Merlin - and our mutual concern. So, if you think about it, you really only have yourself to blame here."

"I tried." Now she's being serious. "I may be certified to save people, but. Apparently not to save . . . what's _between_ people."

And they've arrived. Gwen is oblivious, laid out on her chair still in the one-piece lifeguard suit like Morgana, reading a book of course, just ahead. In fact, its a book Morgana actually recognizes - one of her friend's absolute favorites (so much so she forced Morgana to read it), cheesily titled "Queen of Hearts," about a haughty blond prince and a kindly brunette maid falling in love. Oh the parallels.

"Gwen, look who tagged along," Morgana says drily, and Arthur's eyes alight on Gwen's just as hers does on him - both with such a bright, happy hopefulness that Morgana has to stop herself from gagging. And/or dying inside. "I guess I'll have to put up with you two flirting this whole time, now."

But Gwen and Arthur have already started talking, and it doesn't die down. After about ten minutes of "What's wrong with my laugh, then? Well?" and "You sound like a _puppy_, _barking_," she scoots her chair far enough that their annoyingly cute conversation fades into the roar of the wave pool and its occupants.

Ahh, sweet solitude.

The sun is cooking, beating down on her in thick waves, and maybe just this once she'll get tanned from it. Morgana takes off her sunglasses, trying to relax. Hoping to burn rather than to hurt, hurt, hurt. Rejection is a sting none have been saved the pain from, but that doesn't make it hurt less each time. And for all the horrible instances of rejection in her life - Arthur proclaiming they weren't siblings when she first moved in at twelve years old, a boy in 8th grade who laughed at her proclamation of love, her top university turning her down just last fall - this might actually be the worst.

Because Arthur and her are considerably close compared to then, and the boy from 8th grade was arrested in a drug bust just last year, and there were two other universities just waiting in line to offer her scholarships. But - unless cloning is invented sometime soon - there will always be just one Merlin.

Something tickles her face, bringing Morgana back from her musings. A faint puff of air. At first she discards it as a warm breeze, but then.

Then lips are pressing against hers, ever-so-slightly, and though Morgana's only kissed them a handful of times ever, she immediately knows their owner.

She jerks in surprise, almost bumping her forehead against his chin as she opens her eyes. "Hullo," Merlin says, and she lifts her head to squint up at his upside-down face. Mouth popping open in disbelief.

The sky is bright behind him, sun casting a halo of sorts over his curling, dark hair, and her breath hitches just at the sight. And by an entirely new kind of warmth, there in his eyes.

He leans back, letting her sit up, and Morgana blinks away the brightness before staring at the image before her in shock. Merlin sits on a chair just behind her, wearing swim trunks and nothing else, looking quite ravishing with his soft smile and - as usual - heart-stopping gaze.

"I-I didn't know you were here," Morgana says dumbly, staring at him as she slowly swings her legs over the side of her seat. "You . . . this is a mirage, right?"

He thinks contemplatively for a moment, then grins at her in a way that makes her lungs paralyze. Moving to sit right next to her on the edge of the reclined chair. "You tell me," he says, raising an eyebrow.

Morgana prays and prays this is what she thinks it is. His face keeps leaning closer, and she probably shouldn't be holding her breath. But she is. Daring to lean a bit closer herself.

Merlin stops about halfway there, no longer moving. Just as her spirit begins to sink, however, his hand moves to take hers from her lap. Morgana watches, confused, as he gently but cautiously places one against the side of his face. And then she understands.

Its nice and easy to imagine the privilege of stroking Merlin's face; tracing every sharp line and smooth angle, feeling the smallest of stubble along his jaw, the slightest of dampness along his hairline from the beating sun, the ridiculous line of his cheekbone. But its not so easy - as in_ try not to swoon_ easy - to actually be in. the. act. She bites her lip, trying to keep her hand from shaking. Because in a spout of boldness, her fingers start to lower slowly, moving to trace the edge of his lower lip.

It stretches into a smile against her fingertips.

"We need to talk," Morgana says regretfully, echoing his words last Saturday as she withdraws her hand. Merlin nods.

"Yes. Probably not under such scrutiny, though," he smirks, looking pointedly over her shoulder.

Morgana follows his gaze just as Gwen and Arthur whip their heads away, quite horribly bad at acting unassuming.

"Can't blame them - for shipping this, just a little, I mean," she smirks, shrugging. And he laughs because, unlike Arthur and Gwaine and most men in her life, Merlin actually knows what that means.

* * *

><p>Fast forward about two minutes into Morgana leading Merlin to a nice, secluded part of the park - the outdoor changing stalls, which practically everyone disregards in favor of the toilet stalls every year - in total and complete, almost awkward silence. For Morgana its jittery nerves and anticipation.<p>

To snog or not to snog? That is the question.

Merlin does really seem like he wants to talk, though, and when they stop he leans against a stall before immediately saying, "I wasn't going to go, Saturday night."

She nods. "Arthur told me."

"Did he tell you why I showed up anyway?" he asks, biting his lip in such an endearing way its almost as cute as when Gwen does it. Morgana gets distracted by that, has to replay his question in her head to answer.

"No. Though Gwaine said something to me - he told me he'd gotten you to agree somehow," Morgana remembers, and Merlin nods in a resigned sort of way.

"Gwaine called me," he confirms, "and told me he invited Freya, his cousin, who I've met a few times. He said - erm, just - he thought maybe that would get you jealous. Seeing as I think Freya might like me, well, quite a bit."

She can feel her eyes bugging out; Merlin looks a bit amused by it, but mostly sheepish. "_That's_ what convinced you?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, actually. He said, and I quote: If that's what you're not sure about, with Morgana - here's your chance to find out. People don't get jealous for the fun of it, mate. They only get jealous if they care."

Morgana's eyebrows make a trek up her forehead. "That's some pretty profound shite, coming from Gwaine."

His lips twitch to the side, in a small ironic smile, as he continues, "I thought I was more than sure you didn't care, still. But then you kept throwing Freya death glares over Catch phrase - "

" - they weren't_ death_ glares - "

" - They were _death glares_, don't deny it," Merlin silences her, stepping forward with a poised eyebrow. "And later you seemed all upset over the other game, so I thought maybe Gwaine was right - but then in the closet, when you were explaining everything, I couldn't help but wonder if you just felt sorry for me all over again - "

" - STOP right there." She puts her hands on her hips. "One, I've never felt sorry for you Merlin - though this whole summer I've honestly felt sorry for _myself_ after everything I ruined - and, Two, I would never in a million years lead someone on like that. I'm sorry if you don't trust me, and I know its mostly my fault, but I don't - _fake_ well. At least, not when it comes to . . . this." She gestures between them awkwardly. Something warm is rushing to her cheeks, and Morgana curses her pale skin for making it so obvious. Merlin's eyes are on it, too. Maybe next summer she'll lay out on the roof from 11 to 4 instead of lifeguard, lather oil all over herself, bring some reflective metal -

That train of thought gets quickly cut short as Morgana feels the pads of two fingers, Merlin's fingers, brush across her flushed cheeks. "This?" he repeats in question, voice low and amused, and where did all that space go between them? Surely it was a few steps or two, at least a person's width of distance. Now . . .

Now, when Morgana whispers, "You," and the fingers are replaced by a gentle palm, Merlin is so close all she sees is his chest, all she feels is heat coming off him, warmer than the sun.

She looks up, intending to meet his eyes and see what's in them. But, who can blame her, Morgana's gaze stops at his mouth. Red, from him biting on them, slightly open, a bit chapped. When she finally moves up again, trying to control urges to back them against this wall right now and have her wicked way with him, Merlin's eyes are dark with intent. On _her_ mouth.

A kiss with Merlin Emrys is a highlight for one's biography. A kiss_ initiated_ by Merlin Emrys is something for the history books.

An unseen hand has her by the back - the _small_ of her back actually, which is a very important distinction considering it feels like she's been branded - and the one on her cheek moves behind her neck, tugging. In less than a second Merlin has pulled her flush against him. Bodies colliding, even before lips do.

But they do, yes indeed, Merlin's sliding against hers in a skilled fashion, light at first and then more insistent against hers. She gasps like a damsel into his mouth, desire pooling into her middle as if there's a leak in her heart, while he tilts his head and kisses her, once, twice. Again. Her hands grab for his shoulders like she's drowning, his hips against hers, fingers trailing down her spine in a trail of fire.

And, in case you've forgotten, remember they're in their _swimsuits_ right now.

Morgana finally has to pull back a little, taking in a lungful of air - but it catches in her throat as Merlin's lips don't stop, trailing down her jaw, moving against her neck in a way that makes her pulse pound in her ears. She manages quick, shaky breaths, one hand fisting in his hair and the other clawing at his shoulder enough it probably hurts - but he rumbles a little in approval - and without warning both his hands hoist her up, twist them around so he can brace her against the wall. Her legs wrap around his waist, and Merlin's everywhere, _everywhere_. Skin against skin, one's inhale the other's exhale.

This is a part of what she was hoping for in the laundry closet. Hands exploring, pressing against his chest, moving across his collarbones, gripping on his arms - one next to her head, against the wall. Speaking with lips in an entirely more efficient way. But, unlike then, now they're outside in broad daylight in a public park. At her workplace. "_You_ - need to - stop," she murmurs against his lips as they press against the corner of hers, and she can feel him smile.

"_Why?"_

Morgana shivers. Its hard to really come up with an argument when he asks like that, when he pulls back, their eyes level, his face flushed but unembarrassed. She wishes she could say the same. "Erm, I uh, 'm probably going to get fired if anyone sees this," she stutters out, brain almost completely in haywire. Because his eyes are not only boring into hers, they're so close she almost goes cross-eyed looking at them.

Merlin grins; he nods, helping her back onto her feet - only to press Morgana back against the wall for one last hard, lingering kiss. Then, one last soft, press of lips.

"I trust you," he says, and when she looks up at him in confusion he explains, "You said earlier I didn't. I _thought_ I didn't. But since Saturday I kept thinking about it. Thinking about you, and Spring Break when you told me to close my eyes and trust you, and ever since then I did." His mouth twists into an amused smile. "Maybe that's why it was so easy to believe Arthur, when he told me there'd been a misunderstanding, and we should talk. I feel like an idiot, now - I kept telling you we should stay low, for awhile, not tell anyone, and when you lied to do _just that_ - I let you convince even me. I'm sorry. I really am an idiot."

Morgana's smile is so wide it might split her face; she pokes him in the Adam's apple, though, as she shrugs and says, "True. But still, at least you weren't the idiot who avoided the other the whole entire summer, when one good conversation could have very easily cleared this up. _I'm_ sorry." She pecks him on the lips for good measure, so content she could probably float. She raises an eyebrow, though, when he cocks his head, regarding her.

"Hmmm," Merlin says, squinting his eyes into blue slits. "Well." He puts both hands on her hips, leaning close, "I guess it's decided then."

"Mmm . . . what's that?" She puts her hands on his shoulders, distracted by his mischievous smile.

He shrugs, leans in, and kisses her, whispering:

"We're both idiots."

To love, or not to love? No question there.

_Fin._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that's a wrap! Lots and lots of kissing to make up for the past two parts, haha. This was pure fun, and I really enjoyed myself - so I hope you did as well! I'd like to thank firstly Merlin and Morgana, for being such shippable characters, and also my faithful muse, who I usually have to bother and bother but this time kept bothering ME, and lastly - well, me. For finishing something!**

**Every single piece of fiction I write, fan or not, has a song/artist dedicated to it. The song for "How to Save a (Love) Life":  
><span>Merry Go Round by Fitz and the Tantrums<span>  
>Which you should totally check out. It might not be romantic, but it fit the mood of this fic so well to me.<strong>

**I think that's it! For LifeIndeed, at least. What's left for you, dear reader, is to comment below and make an author's day. I really would love to hear each of your thoughts, my friends. Don't be stingy with 'em ;)**

**Cheers!  
><strong>**LifeIndeed**


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